CHAPTER 19 FAE #2
I uncross my legs and watch as he follows the movement.
God, men are disgusting. It’s crazy when you think about it, whole case studies are done on how to honey trap a man and every single one of them falls for it, hook, line, and sinker.
There’s no way people could be taught to seduce the whole female population, but for men?
A quick flash of the knickers, a squeeze of your cleavage, a flick of your hair, and they are eating out of your palm.
My hand slides up to his chest as Daniel leans in to kiss me and I brace myself for impact. Just as his harsh mouth touches mine, a glass is placed in front of me and I pull back. Curling my fingers around it, I lift it to my mouth and pretend to sip. It was the first rule we were taught.
Never accept a drink you haven’t seen poured.
“Have you been waiting long?” I murmur, putting the glass down and leaning in just enough to drop my voice into a husky whisper.
My hand slides down his chest, down his stomach, over his belt before settling over his cock and I bite my lip as I flick my eyes back over to him. His grip tightens on my thigh at the contact, but I force a fake moan from my mouth.
“Long enough.”
“Are you as desperate as me?” I whisper as his hand travels under my dress and strokes my covered clit.
“Are you desperate?”
“As soon as I saw how you looked, I was,” I whimper at his pinky rubbing me, the gleam in his eye makes me want to roll mine.
Fucking loser.
“I want to hear that again,” he licks his lips.
I move closer still, letting my body press into his just enough that his breath catches as I seductively lick his earlobe.
“We don’t have to stay here,” I whisper. “I want all my time with you.”
I grab his cock harder this time under the table. Whatever restraint he thought he was showing goes. He knocks back his drink in one go, setting the glass down before turning to me.
“Yeah,” he mutters, already pushing his chair back. “Let’s go.”
We don’t speak as we leave. He stays half a step behind me, close enough that I can feel him there without him actually touching me, but there’s something about it that makes my skin itch.
The October evening air is cool and sharp, and I use it to calm myself as we cross the street towards the hotel opposite.
I glance back at him as we reach the entrance, catching the way his eyes flick around as if he is seeing who might be watching.
“Are you okay?” I ask as if I actually care and not trying to figure out if I’m in danger.
He huffs out a quiet breath, running a hand over the back of his neck before looking sheepishly at me.
“Yeah. Just… I shouldn’t be doing this,” Daniel shrugs.
Of course. They always say this, always pretend to have some sort of guilty conscience and I have to blink slowly to stop my eyes from rolling in the back of my head at the predictability.
“A girlfriend?” I tilt my head as I force a soft and teasing voice. He hesitates for half a second too long before ushering me into the doors by the small of my back.
“Wife.”
Right.
Of course, it’s a wife. Having a girlfriend is far too ambiguous for a man like him.
A sense of dread settles in my chest as I’m pushed through the entrance.
This is just one more reason why I can’t marry.
Forget me doing my job, this is the only thing that has taught me how unfaithful the general population truly is.
A pang of heartache hits me for his wife.
How will she feel when she finds out he’s dead?
Will she care more about his death, or about finding out he spent the last moments of his life creaming his pants over someone who wasn’t her?
The lift is too quiet. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time. It feels heavy and expectant and by the time the doors open, I can tell his restraint is hanging on by a thread.
The door barely shuts before he’s on me.
He kicks it closed as he roughly shoves me into the wall harder than I was expecting.
A harsh grunt leaves me as the wind is knocked from my lungs.
My hands come up automatically to push him off, but his mouth attacks mine as if he is trying to win some sort of war.
I bite down on the disgusting feel of his tongue trying to gain entrance, but he moans at the sensation.
Daniel grabs my hair and pulls my neck so far back I cry out from the pain.
“Fuck, Daniel, be careful,” I say, trying to placate him.
“I don’t pay for careful,” he sneers before he uses his grip on my hair to attack my neck in a harsh bite.
The sting is instant, and I cry out again. Fuck. My heart rate goes through the roof as panic starts to claw at my chest. This is out of control. I feel him lick my neck and goose pimples cover my whole body at the feeling of it. I want to be sick. I can’t fucking take this anymore.
“Daniel, wait! Stop!”
“No,” he growls as he fumbles with himself.
His movements are rushed and messy, and I try and force my heart rate to calm down and my expression to stay neutral. I need to think of something. Anything to gain control again.
“Let me suck your cock,” I gasp as his aggressive hands rip my dress up, leaving my arse exposed to the air.
“Yes,” he hisses and steps back so I can finally breathe again.
He moves over to press the radio on as I take in a deep lungful of air as he completely drops his trousers.
My knees hit the floor automatically and I have to swallow hard against the wave of disgust that threatens to rise up my throat.
It sits there, heavy and choking, as I stare at his boner.
Daniel starts pleasuring himself, undiluted lust burning in his eyes as he licks his lips and looks down at his dick like it’s an offering I should be excited about.
I’m not.
I never am.
“Want me to paint that pretty little cock red?” I lick my lips, trying to force the look of lust back into my expression as a flicker of humour threatens to break through at how I emphasised little.
“Yes, be a good girl,” he steps closer as I quickly move my eyesight to my clutch that was thrown on the floor when he pushed me. I scramble for it.
“What are you doing?” he barks
“Getting my lipstick, gorgeous, you’ll look so good covered in it.”
He smiles a sly, disgusting smile, and I realise with a jolt that it’s nothing like Roman’s smile.
My hand reaches in my bag as my fingers close around the familiar shape of my Dior lipstick.
I make my way back over to him, my head tilting back as he continues to pleasure himself in front of my face.
I twist the lipstick without looking at it.
There’s a soft click as the mechanism shifts, and the blade slides free so smoothly it almost feels like an extension of me.
This time there’s no hesitation or second thought, I move as fast as possible.
Faster than he can process or react to. The slice is clean and precise as the blade sinks in.
I can feel it meet resistance that makes my grip tighten before it finally gives way.
I push the blade through with sickening pressure before there’s a muted, wet pop that lands somewhere between a sound and a sensation.
For a split second, nothing happens.
Then everything does.
Blood surges out in a violent rush, it feels hot as it splatters across my hands, chest and face.
I gasp as I jerk back, the force of it catching me off guard even though it shouldn’t.
He stumbles, a strangled sound tearing from his throat as his hands scramble trying to stop the bleed. It’s useless.
I push myself up, slipping slightly as I force distance between us. My pulse is hammering too loudly in my ears, drowning everything else out as I wipe at my face with the back of my hand, only to make the blood splatter worse.
I watch as he falls to the ground, my chest rising in quick succession as I move to the bathroom to try and wash the blood, but it’s no use.
God damn it.
I turn, crossing the room in quick strides, my hand already reaching for the door, my fingers slipping slightly on the handle before I wrench it open—
My heart free-falls.
“Hello, Tinkerbell.”